Sunday, December 11, 2005


Happy birthday to our darling Erin, who turned 4 on Monday, and who made out like a bandit! Although we might have to revisit how often we eat out: when asked what she wanted to do for her birthday, the immediate reply was "Sizzlers!", so out we trooped on Sunday for massive plates of serve-yourself, ice-cream, and all the cool drink we could imbibe.

What stops Luscious and I in our mental tracks sometimes is the knowledge of the individual ways in which each of our children are special in our lives: in Erin's case, she is the thread that brought our two families together and made them one. It was the love she showed to Lyn & the Triffkids, and the love she engendered in return, that gave us the platform to become the family we are. She may be a typically stroppy, headstrong and frustrating 4 year old sometimes, but she deserves all the love and goodness that comes her way.

And she even does a good job of cleaning up her room...

All her dreams come true: a present bigger than her entire body.


It was a week for being proud of children. Aiden graduated primary school, and we went along to his graduating ceremony on a bitterly cold and windy evening to see him accept his memorial cup and photo. Now every time he drinks hot chocolate he'll think of his former classmates....

The differences between the boy I met almost 3 years ago and the young man he is rapidly becoming are palpable. Aiden is only 12, but he is a man in the making: strong in his opinions; unique in his likes and dislikes; with a gentleness and maturity I find rare in the adult world, never mind in the milieu of the pre-teen, where such qualities are as often derided as rewarded.

I was overwhelmed with pride to see him take the next step along his path, and Luscious was teary the whole night. My only disappointment was in not being able to souvenir a poster of the boy himself, created by his Year One 'buddy' (the school has a great little system where the older kids take responsibility for a teensy person, and help them adjust). Still, we managed a photo, so here 'tis:

Do the right things and one day you may be immortalised in cut-outs


So last year I bullied the wholefamily into sitting down together and creating a Christmas decoration to hang on the tree. This year I got as far as "Shall we make ou...." and they'd started.

Here's a hint: if you buy a new tree, make sure you take notice of the size. Seven feet is significantly higher than six, especially if you have trouble refraining from singing "Hi Ho Hi Ho" every time you see your family standing together. Guess who got all the high jobs?

The tree is up, it looks brill, and I love watching everyone gather round and put the decorations up. Last year's stars and this year's bon bons define what Christmas should be about for me: a sense of reward for seeing your family through another year, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you are together.

But boy we had to move a bunch of furniture to fit the sodding tree in. Thank god the new house is bigger...

Attack of the Christmas Midgets!


Walking has been achieved. Walking a lot has been achieved. The C-Train is mobile!


Was a time that paying off my mortgage would have been a big thing. It was the one thing I had pencilled in from the day we started the compensation case. Well, the money came in, we dumped it on the mortgage, the next day all trace of it was gone from our bank records, and..... nothing. No sense of achievement, no satisfaction, nowt.

Things have moved on too far, too fast. This house is a relic of a past from which I am dedicated to removing myself. A new house, and a new chapter of my life, awaits. All my energies, hopes, and desires are aimed towards the future. It's a good future, damn it, and I want to be there, with my family, my writing, and with all the baggage left in the past where it belongs.


This is weird: I made a sale the other day, and I can't tell you about it. It's my first sale under a pseudonym, and I've got a damn good cone of silence going over this name, so I plan to keep it.

Maybe some clues when it's published....


Oh crap. We're screwed. At least we won't have to beat Uruguay to get to 2010.

Song of the moment: The Piano Has Been Drinking Tom Waites

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